


I Hate You for Taking Control of Me

by Athos of Trevilles boudoir (Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson)



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: 30 Sexual Themes, M/M, Rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-10 05:54:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3279224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson/pseuds/Athos%20of%20Trevilles%20boudoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>When the Cardinal had come to Athos’ private boarding rooms, he had presumed the man to be lost. Now, however, he assumed the man to be utterly mad. The words were still echoing around his head, and Athos felt like he would be ill if he opened his mouth.</em><br/> </p><p>Changed to a chapter story.<br/><em>I am using the 30 sexual themes as a background for this story, as a prompt if you will.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Sexual theme 03: First time _with a darker twist_

When the Cardinal had come to Athos’ private boarding rooms, he had presumed the man to be lost. Now, however, he assumed the man to be utterly mad. The words were still echoing around his head, and Athos felt like he would be ill if he opened his mouth.  
  
“Now, Musketeer, you can do as I say, or I can have you arrested.”  
  
“Arrested for what?”  
  
The Cardinal wiped at his cheek, a rather nasty looking cut appearing as what make up he had applied was removed.  
  
“I’ll accuse you of attacking me whilst you were drunk.”  
  
Anger coursed round Athos’ body as he realised he didn’t have much of a choice... The King would always listen to the Cardinal, and after all, it was no secret that Athos had issues with alcohol, and went angered, he could be extremely volatile. His body began to tremble a little, realising he had no other choice but to do what the Cardinal wanted him to.  
  
“Oh come now, even you can’t be scared of a little experimentation, Athos.”  
  
“I’m not a sodomite.”  
  
“You’ve never tried it, have you?”  
  
The blush rushing to the Musketeer’s cheeks must have given his answer away as a wry chuckle slipped from the Cardinal’s lips.  
  
“Virgins are always fun... Have you ever even thought of laying with a man before?”  
  
“Never.”  
  
“That’s a lie. Tell me... Who is it? Who is it that you think of when you lay your hand on yourself?”  
  
Athos took a step back, tumbling to sit on the bed as the back of his knees hit it, staring up at the Cardinal as he walked forward.  
  
“Perhaps, is it the young Gascon boy? Or Aramis? You and Aramis have always had a connection. Does it hurt you to know that he is enamoured – _and loved_ – by Porthos?”  
  
Athos shrugged. It wasn’t much of a secret now that Aramis and Porthos would lay with each other now and then. Bile rose in his throat as the Cardinal sat next to him.  
  
“Or perhaps... Is it your dear Captain Treville?”  
  
Athos’ head whipped around too quickly at the statement.  
  
“So it is... Well then, why don’t you think of him whilst this happens?”  
  
Athos froze as the elder moved closer to him, leaning in. His mind yelled at him to do one thing.  
  
He spat.  
  
The Cardinal jerked backwards, a look of disgust on his face.  
  
“You animal. Would you treat Treville like this?”  
  
“You’re not Treville. No matter how hard you want to be.”  
  
Athos had moved across the room, shakily leaning against his windowpane. There had to be a way out of this.  
  
“I will not sleep with you, Cardinal.”  
  
“Oh, Athos, I think you forget. What I want, I get.”  
  
He had finished cleaning his face now, standing to walk towards him.  
  
“And what I want is you.”  
  
Athos spat again and this time, a hand connected with the side of his face. It took him by shock, causing him to fall to the ground, eyes wide as he panted, staring up at the Cardinal.  
  
“Why are you doing this?”  
  
“Oh hush up. Why does anyone do things like this?”  
  
A hand wrenched Athos up, too shocked to do anything more than allow himself to be dragged alone, and he was pushed to the bed. Hands were at his tunic, working the buttons open with ease – _had the Cardinal done this before_ – and Athos gave out a choked cry, trying to push him away. He gave a shaky sigh of relief when he stood back.  
  
“Athos... Athos... You either go along with this, or I will be forced to tell the King all about your... History. Comtè.”  
  
Athos’ blood ran cold.  
  
“N-No... You can’t do this. This is extortion.”  
  
“And who will the King believe? Now, be good and stop fighting.”  
  
Tears pricked up in Athos’ eyes as he lay there helpless, staring at the ceiling as the Cardinal undressed him. His eyes clenched shut when he felt the bed dip as he finished undressing himself. Hands were on him, and Athos had to grit his teeth. He wasn’t sure if he was going to be sick. His legs were bent back and Athos felt tears in his eyes.  
  
“ _Look at me_.”  
  
The hissed command sounded so menacing that Athos did as he was told. Their eyes locked and the Cardinal pushed in.  
  
//  
  
Athos had to bite back a cry as pain exploded. His breathing increased and he bit so hard into his lip he could taste blood. He just about registered the moan from the man above him, something else that made him feel sick. Slowly, he looked up at him, and the hard look in the Cardinal’s eyes softened when they met.  
  
“Relax... Calm down... This will only be worse if you fight it.”  
  
Athos didn’t have the strength to reply. He turned his head away, staring at the wall. He felt Armand’s soft movements and he fought the urge to wince. Suddenly, the thrusts were so much harder and Athos had to let himself cry out. His body was aching, trembling, _screaming_ in pain.  
  
“Enjoying yourself?”  
  
Athos glared up at the Cardinal, tempted to spit again. He was pretty sure that there was already a bruise forming on his cheek so what would one more hit do. Hopefully, render him unconscious.  
  
“Silent treatment? Very well.”  
  
Athos yelled out at a painful thrust, much harder than the rest. He could feel Armand pulling almost fully out before slamming back in, each time harder and harder than the previous. Tears welled up and began to fall down Athos’ face as he stared at the ceiling, ignoring the moans and grunts from the Cardinal.  
  
Until Armand hit something that made Athos cry out. His eyes widened at the feeling of pleasure beginning to numb the pain and a choked sob escaped his lips as he realised his cock was hardening. This shouldn’t be happening.  
  
“Enjoying it I see.”  
  
More tears welled up in Athos’ eyes as Richeliu continued to thrust, pleasure filled cries still escaping his throat. His eyes tightened as the Musketeer felt the familiar pool of pleasure in his stomach. He grit his teeth and came with a whine;  it didn’t take long for Athos to feel a heat inside of him and to realise from the look on his face that Richeliu had come as well. There were a few more soft thrusts and then it was over.  
  
Armand was standing and dressing.  
  
And Athos was staring at the ceiling, tears still falling.  
  
“Expect to see me again, Musketeer... And remember where you stand.”  
  
The rustle of robes and the shutting of his door was all Athos needed to curl his aching body up under the sheets and sob himself into a nightmare plagued sleep.  



	2. Clothed Getting Off

Three days sick leave was up.   
  
Athos’ eyes flickered open and a groan escaped his lips as he rolled over. His body was still aching and he still felt unclean, despite four baths since it had happened. Slowly, the Musketeer got up, groaning as his body ached in protest before he forced himself to stand. The pain wasn’t so bad now, especially in his lower body, but there was still the constant ache that reminded him with each step of what had happened. Just pulling his clothes on was an effort in himself. How would he even be able to train?  
  
Athos pushed the thought to the back of his mind, cringing. The bruise on his face wasn’t as bad as it had been the day of it happening, but the green blue tinge was obvious as the nose on his face. He closed his eyes, tracing his fingers over the darkened skin. No doubt Aramis and Porthos would rush him and try to find out what had happened. He still had no idea of what to say. A drunken bar fight? That sounded like him but how could he explain the three days absence? A soft sigh escaped Athos’ lips as he secured his weapons to his belt. Hopefully, the bruise would distract his friends from his limp.  
  
//  
  
Athos was right. The moment he stepped foot in the garrison, Aramis and Porthos almost mobbed him, hugging him tightly. They were both talking quickly before they took a step back, eyes falling on his cheek. The silence that followed caused Athos to squirm softly.  
  
“Dear God, man, what happened to you?”  
  
“Drunken bar fight.”  
  
Porthos was silent for a moment before laughing.  
  
“You need to start taking more care out in the bars on those days you drink too much! Maybe we should start watching you more.”  
  
“That won’t be needed.”  
  
Maybe he spoke a little too quickly, for Porthos and Aramis shared a look; but Athos couldn’t risk them finding out what the Cardinal had done. He couldn’t bear the shame of them knowing that despite his best intentions, he had actually _enjoyed_ what had happen. At least a part of him had. He couldn’t bear the eyes of pity that would inevitably come his way.  
  
And that scared Athos.  
  
He didn’t want his best friends to view him as anything less than their brother. Relationships definitely weren’t Athos’ strong suit, and he desperately wanted to keep hold of the ones he had made with the men that were his brothers. He couldn’t lose them.   
  
He snapped back to reality and realised Porthos had been talking. Blushing slightly, Athos shook his head.  
  
“Do excuse me, Porthos, what were you just saying?”  
  
“I said it was weird. The Cardinal came by the past two days looking for you.”  
  
“O-Oh? He did? Did he mention whatever for?”  
  
“Nothing other than he needed to speak to you on half-important matters.”  
  
“Half-important? I shall go to his chambers on my way home.”  
  
The two men nodded before d’Artagnan appeared, babbling about how he had managed to defeat one of the other recruits. A soft smile slipped across Athos’ face as he nodded, giving the boy a pat on the back.  
  
“Well done. Now, let me _see_ you do it.”  
  
He grinned and pointedly followed d’Artagnan. This was the training his body could handle.  
  
//  
  
True to his word, after a stressful and painful day back at the garrison, Athos made his way through the streets to the upscale side of Paris, heading to the Cardinal’s chambers, despite everything in his body telling him to go home and curl up – force himself to sleep. He grit his teeth as he knocked on the door, nodding at the servant who had been forced to open it. Athos walked through the halls, eyes on the floor.  
  
“Ah, Athos, how good of you to come to me.”  
  
Athos’ jaw clenched slightly, trying to ignore what would shortly happen. Of course, the only reason the Cardinal wanted him here was surely to rape him again. The feather light touch of the elder’s hand on Athos’ jaw had him looking up to him. He swallowed hard, tearing up already.  
  
“My my, that is a bruise and a half, is it not? I didn’t realise I’d struck you so hard...”  
  
“Enough.”  
  
Athos knocked his hand away, glaring daggers at him.  
  
“Why do you want me here?”  
  
“Another session of fun.”  
  
If Athos’ brain didn’t freeze, he more than likely could have come up with some sarcastic comment that distracted Richelieu enough for Athos to come up with an excuse to leave. Instead, his body began to tremble. He couldn’t swallow, he couldn’t breathe.  
  
“Come. Time to retreat to my chambers, don’t you think?”  
  
Athos merely stared at Richelieu, frozen to the spot. The Cardinal rolled his eyes, taking a firm hold of Athos’ shoulder guard, tugging him behind him.  
  
//  
  
The mattress broke Athos’ fall from the slightly too rough shove. He stiffened almost immediately, determined to fight it this time. He was determined to shove Richelieu off of him and to get out of here, even if it meant jumping from the window. He could go to Treville... But would his Captain believe him? Male rape didn’t seem to be Armand’s style.  
  
When Richelieu didn’t start stripping, Athos rose an eyebrow, daring to sit up slightly to watch him.  
  
“What are you doing..?”  
  
“I’m thinking of the best way to do this... When I say a session of fun... I’m going to teach you to enjoy my touch.”  
  
Athos’ heart turned cold.  
  
“Hands and knees.”  
  
Slowly, ever so slowly, Athos did as he was told. Tears pricked up as he felt Richelieu sit next to him, fingers adeptly untying his breeches. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to stay calm when he felt Richelieu’s hand close around his prick. He clenched his eyes shut and bit into his lip as he felt his hand stoking gently.  
  
“You will start enjoying this, Athos, it’s not going to go away, so you might as well give into the pleasure your body wants to feel.”  
  
Athos grunted a little, staring at a spot on the black engraved headboard.  
  
“And if that’s not working... Merely imagine I’m Treville.”  
  
Now _that_ got Athos’ attention. Almost immediately at the thought of his Captain taking advantage of his vulnerable position, his prick began to stiffen. A choked sob escaped his throat as he realised what was happening, beginning to struggle.  
  
“Don’t make me bind you to the bed, Athos, you know I will.”  
  
Still, he struggled against Richelieu. With a snarl, the movement of his hand became quicker, tighter, and Athos let out a moan.   
  
A moan which filled him with self-hatred.   
  
Quicker and tighter. Tighter and quicker. Armand’s hand kept moving and more and more moans were slipping from Athos’ lips. It wasn’t long before he felt the familiar heat pooling in his stomach. With a cry, he came hard, shooting all over the Cardinal’s hand and bed sheets.


	3. Naked Cuddles

Athos lay curled on his side, breeches still around his thighs as he stared at the wall. Richelieu had sent for servants to set up a room for the Musketeer, making it clear that Athos was to stay the night, whether he wanted to or not. The wall began to blur as tears welled up. Why was this happening? Why couldn’t Richelieu have chosen anyone else?  
  
A hand carded through his hair and Athos stiffened.  
  
“Calm down... Nothing is happening... I had a bath drawn for you.”  
  
Slowly, ever so slowly, Athos sat up, putting his feet on the ground.   
  
“Come now...”  
  
Armand moved to tug Athos’ breeches off; a move that had a whine escaping the Musketeer’s throat. Richelieu raised an eyebrow, looking up at him. What he saw shocked him. He’d seen Athos look vulnerable before, but he’d never seen him look so scared and... Raw. He shook his head and moved to unbutton the tunic the Musketeer wore, slipping it off of him before removing his small clothes.  
  
Athos rose, allowing Armand to lead him through to the bath which steamed. Athos prayed it was hot enough to remove the feel of Richelieu’s touch off his skin. He pushed Armand off, letting himself slip into the hot water, forcing himself not to shudder under the Cardinal’s gaze. He kept his eyes shut tight, until the sound of fading footsteps became nothing. He opened his eyes and looked around.  
  
Once satisfied that Richelieu was gone, Athos took the soap, carefully lathering himself up. He scrubbed hard and long at every inch of his body until the water was no longer warm and was close to the cold side. He had just finished washing the soap off his skin when Richelieu came back in. Athos prayed for him to do anything other than stand there staring at him.   
  
“I think rest is in order.”  
  
//  
  
Athos tried to ignore Richelieu as he slipped brand new small clothes on – _which fit him too well for Athos to consider this a coincidence_ – before sitting down.   
  
“How does your face feel?”  
  
Athos stared at the man in the doorway, narrowing his eyes.  
  
“It’s tight now and then. Painful. But what do I expect?”  
  
“I apologise for leaving a mark.”  
  
Athos’ breathing hitched as Richelieu’s fingers began to undo his jacket, allowing it to fall to the floor. His chest tightened as the man began removing his small clothes. Tears pricked up as he walked across the room.   
  
Richelieu’s hands held onto Athos’ shoulders as he pressed their lips together.  
  
 _Attack_.  
  
Athos bit down hard on the tongue that was pressing against his lips. Richelieu pulled back with a snarl.  
  
“Don’t make me hurt you again.”  
  
Athos let out a yell as Richelieu’s fingers went to the small clothes the Musketeer had just put on. Tears fell down his face as he began to panic. He kicked out, desperate that Richelieu wouldn’t enter him again. His blows did nothing, however, and the Cardinal easily pinned him down to the bed.  
  
//  
  
Richelieu couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t bring himself to harm Athos again, at least, not right now. The man was too vulnerable... It just didn’t feel right. A soft sigh escaped his lips and he lay down, wrapping an arm around Athos’ midriff. The younger stiffened, still breathing erratically.  
  
“Calm down... Get some rest. You’ll need it for tomorrow. I believe Treville is testing you all on sword technique.”  
  
It took a long five minutes before Athos began to breathe at a normal rate once more. It took another few minutes before he gently rolled over, hesitantly tucking his face into Richelieu’s shoulder. The Cardinal froze for a moment before he wrapped the duvet tightly around them, kissing Athos’ forehead.   
  
He only allowed himself sleep when he was sure Athos was in a peaceful sleep.


	4. Naked Kisses

Athos woke the next morning, still curled up in Richelieu’s arms. What had happened? Why was he here? Why was he clutching to Richelieu like he was? Carefully, he moved away, sitting up. The ache that had been there since the first time was completely gone now and Athos let his eyes slip closed. It was only for a brief moment, but it was too long a moment for a thin arm to snake around his waist.  
  
Athos’ eyes snapped open, head turning ever so slightly to watch Richelieu out of the corner of his eye.  
  
“Why me?”  
  
“Pardon..?”  
  
“Why me? You could have had anyone. Milady, Constance, _the Queen_ ,... Treville, Porthos, Aramis, d’Artagnan... Not that I would wish this onto any of them but why me and why not any of them?”  
  
Richelieu was silent, tracing his fingers up Athos’ back, running them over the slight bump of scars.  
  
“There’s something about you. Whereas they show weakness... You use it to become stronger. You refuse to let your demons give your enemy an upper hand. You have determination... Grit. I do believe the only time I have ever seen you falter is when you were face-to-face with Milady... And of course in these sessions with me.”  
  
“I can promise you, these sessions will not happen again.”  
  
The yank was sudden; much too sudden for Athos to even think about deflecting it. A soft yelp escaped his lips as Richelieu straddled his waist. Athos became all too aware that both men were still naked, a soft flush covering his cheeks under the gaze of the elder man.  
  
“I’ve told you this before... What I want, I get. Do not try to prevent this from happening... Or I might be forced to gather some of your comrades to watch us.”  
  
Panic must have been obvious on Athos’ face.  
  
“You haven’t told them, I know that. They would have mentioned something but I did assume that you would have told Treville.”  
  
Athos spat into the face above him.  
  
“Don’t you dare utter his name; you’re too filthy-”  
  
“ _I_ am the filthy one? Oh, my man, you’ve no idea what your precious Captain gets up to, do you?”  
  
Athos glared up at Richelieu, eyes narrowing. A soft chuckle escaped the thin lips before they moved down to press against the Musketeer’s own. Athos felt the tongue pressing against his lips and, in defeat, his shoulders slumped and he let his mouth open.   
  
Richelieu pulled back a short while later, breathing slightly heavier.   
  
“Get dressed and leave for the garrison. Can’t have Treville’s pet being late now, can we?”  
  
//  
  
Athos stood next to Treville, watching him pace up and down the line, instructing the soldiers gathered of their impending task – and test.  
  
Yet Athos’ mind wasn’t on what Treville was saying.  
  
 _You’ve no idea what your precious Captain gets up to..._  
  
What had the Cardinal meant? Was there a much darker secret Treville was hiding? He watched closely as Treville stood in front of a new recruit – a boy, no older than 17 – and watched how the boy seemed to flinch away in horror. A frown crossed his lips.  
  
Could Treville be playing a game similar to the Cardinal’s?  
  
His eyes bore a hole in the ground.  
  
No.  
  
No, that simply wasn’t possible. Treville was one of the greatest men he knew and-  
  
“Damn it, Athos, are you listening?”  
  
The Musketeer’s head shot up; a little too quickly, allowing his hat to fall to the floor. Behind Treville, he could see Aramis and Porthos share a look and d’Artagnan give a worried glance at his idol’s face but Athos ignored them.  
  
“Sorry, Captain, but no. I didn’t get much sleep last night...”  
  
“Very well. You won’t be doing the test today either way, you’ll be helping me to judge and setting up a small training session for those who need help. You’re one of our best swordsmen. But for Christ’s sake, _pay attention_.”  
  
Athos nodded and perched his hat back on his head before making his way behind Treville, listening to the elder call names – and observed the newer recruits flinching away from his touch.


	5. Doggy Style

Athos stumbled home that night, exhausted, muscles aching as he set his sword down on his dresser. He leaned over, back screaming in protest as he arched it slightly. Oh, when did the new recruits come with training already? He remembered when he had joined; he and Aramis barely knew the right way of a sword, let alone how to fire a gun with almost perfect precision. A sigh escaped him. Maybe it was them taking in knowledge from the older regiment, watching them and copying them with precision. The oil lamp was suddenly lit, and Athos looked up in his mirror to meet eyes with Armand.   
  
“Tonight?”  
  
Richelieu merely nodded.  
  
“Can’t it wait one night? I’m exhausted and don’t quite have the energy to deal with you.”  
  
“No.”  
  
Athos closed his eyes for a moment before turning around, unlacing his doublet. He glared at the Cardinal as he did so, hanging it up before kicking his boots off – a feat which ended him lying on the bed. Richelieu stood, removing his own garments, hanging them over the back of the small chair that stood in the room. It was really the only thing of value – other than the quantity of wine.   
  
“I want you on your knees.”  
  
Athos stared at him, registering what he had said before rolling over, propping himself up on his elbows, ass in the air. He hated this. He hated this position. God he felt so vulnerable. His body was shaking slightly; making him shut his eyes tightly. What was Richelieu waiting for? Why did he insist on dragging his torture out for longer? The bed dipped and Athos pressed his face into the pillows in front of him. A slicked finger slid inside of him and Athos’ hips involuntarily bucked against the intrusion. It was painful, making him whimper a little. A chuckle came from the older man and slowly, slowly, the finger began to move, almost being careful as he began to loosen Athos.   
  
“Why are you doing this?”  
  
“I thought we already discussed this... Now then, settle down.”  
  
Tears pricked in Athos’ eyes as another fingers pressed inside, stretching him, scissoring, twisting. He closed his eyes, gripping a tight hold of the pillow. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to be here. In the morning... In the morning he would tender his resignation and leave. That was it. He would move back to La Fère and rot in the countryside. That was preferable to this. Preferable to being forced into submission almost every night by the _Cardinal_. Hell, Athos wouldn’t mind, really, if it were anyone but.  
  
The third finger came and Athos shifted uncomfortably. They pressed over something and Athos hips jerked, a whimper slipping from his lips.   
  
“There we go... Not so bad, hmm?”  
  
Athos choked back a sob, biting into his lips as Armand pressed his fingers over that spot again and again and again. It was too much; his cock was getting erect. Richelieu knew, of course the man did, because his spare hand wrapped around it, stroking softly.  
  
“And here I was thinking you were opposed to this.”  
  
“You- You did something to me.” A whimper escaped his lips. “You did this not me.”  
  
The fingers inside him disappeared and there was something much thicker pressing inside of him. Athos’ eyes snapped open at the burn of penetration and he couldn’t. He couldn’t do this. Almost immediately, he began to struggle, doing everything he could to get the other man off of him.   
  
Nothing worked.  
  
Richelieu merely forced the Musketeer completely down on the bed, slamming inside. Athos gave a choked cry of pain, tearing his pillows as his fists clenched. Richelieu chuckled, shifting to yank Athos’ hips up into the air again, beginning to thrust quickly. Groans filled the room and Athos had to remind himself how to breathe. In and out. In and out. He felt himself tear from the ferocity, and Athos whimpered, tears falling down his cheeks. It was too much pain. Almost immediately, the thrusting stopped and he felt Armand’s chest against his back. Lips pressed against the shell of his ear and Athos peered back at the man, gasping for air.  
  
“There there... Breathe now.”  
  
Athos sniffed and just shook his head. He didn’t want Richelieu to care for him. He wanted Richelieu to get this over with, get out of him, and to get the hell away from his lodgings. He wanted to curl up and sob himself to sleep before waking up to go to the garrison... He wanted the touch of Treville, holding him safe in one of those oh so rare hugs he would give Athos when he saw the Lieutenant was breaking.   
  
Armand seemed to sense the man’s opposing thoughts, straightening up to start fucking into him again, quick, hard, and thoughtless. His hand curled around the other’s hip, helping him to slam harder into the Musketeer each time. Athos let out cries of pain, each harder thrust injuring his merely further. He could hear the laboured breaths of the Cardinal, and closed his eyes, sending thanks to the Gods. It was nearly over.   
  
And then it was.  
  
The hot burst of liquid filled him and then Richelieu was pulling out and standing. Athos collapsed onto the bed, letting tears stream down his face. He didn’t care that Richelieu could see them now. He had no energy to care.   
  
“I’ll see you soon, Olivier.”  
  
The door shut and Athos allowed his tears to come freefall, sobbing into a pillow. He stayed there for a long time before eventually getting up and sitting at his table, writing a quick note, sealing it with ease before limping downstairs. He grabbed his landlady’s errand boy and took him to the side.  
  
“Give this letter to Captain Treville at the Garrison. I want this delivered straight away. Get it there and back in the next... Half hour and there’ll be a treat in it for you.”  
  
The boy nodded and took the letter, sprinting off. Athos limped back upstairs, collapsing onto his bed to wait.


End file.
